


Killer Queens

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chess, Homeless Castiel, M/M, Monster fic, New York City, Profanity, Runaway Sam, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-12 06:04:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Castiel was raised on the streets of New York, and he's seen just about everything. Everyday, he spends watching over his small family of street kids. The monsters in his world are warring families and thugs. But Sam was raised on the road, and he knows all about monsters, and that's a good thing, because suddenly it looks like there's one out there stalking street kids like Castiel's.





	1. Captain

**Author's Note:**

> A Nonny Mouse prompt.

Unblinking blue eyes stared down the interaction at the street corner with loathing. The man held the passenger door open to his Escalade, to a new and horrible existence, to an infinitely looping cycle of indebtedness and addiction.

Castiel had tangled with this man before. But he waited. When it came, he would come down on this man with the wrath of God, but not till then. One day he was going to be killed doing what he did, and while that wasn't exactly plan A, he needed to be sure before he committed himself to that sacrifice.

And there it was, his sign, his permission.

The girl was shaking her head at this man. That was all Castiel needed. Because the girl was saying no, and Castiel knew all too well that it was a word that meant nothing to this man.

He stalked toward them as a too-familiar scene began to play. The girl, maybe fifteen at most, was backing away, and the man grabbed her arm in a crushing grip. He was too focused on taunting the girl to notice the figure approaching like a shadow in silence.

Castiel's gun was trained on the man’s head before he even revealed his presence. “Hey, assbutt.”

The man's eyes flashed with fury as he turned to glower at this interruption. “Back off, creep. It's got nothing to do with you.”

He held his gun in two steady hands. “Maybe. But she said no, so you're not taking this girl. I won't let you.”

The girl began to sob. Castiel didn't dare take his eyes off his target long enough to look at her, but the sound broke his heart.

“You know you ain't going to shoot me.”

A dark eyebrow went up. “Let's find out.”

The man hesitated, and then finally let go of the girl, who hurried behind Castiel. “One day I’d like to be the one getting into your business, Capitani. One day you're going to get yours,” he snarled.

“Maybe,” Castiel said again. “But today, you're my little bitch.”

A siren played in the distance, and the man swore. “One day,” he muttered, and hurried back into his car to tear down the empty street.

Castiel lowered his gun once the vehicle was out of range. His heart pounded in his chest. “One day,” he agreed. Then he turned to the girl. “Hey. You all right?”

“What the hell just happened?”

“That guy deals in kids like you,” he said with a dropped gaze. “Look, you should wait for the cops, but I gotta go.”

“What's that mean, deals in kids? What was he going to…” She took a sobbing breath, and shook her head. “I just want to go home.”

That was a relief. Castiel nodded. “Where's home?”

“The Island. I came to a club, but...but I couldn't get in, and…”

The sirens were coming closer. “Look, do you got a phone?”

She nodded and swiped at her tears.

“Good. Call the police. Tell them exactly what that guy said and did. Tell them you ran into Lou Luciano, and he tried to shove you into his Escalade. I'll watch you to make sure you're okay till they get here. But they don't gotta know about me, you know? I ain't their favorite guy neither. So just do me a favor and pretend you didn't hear my name or nothing I said.”

She stared at him, then glanced down at his gun. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

“Yeah. Welcome to Queens. Get home safe, okay? No more clubbing till you're old enough to see over the bar, all right? That guy had got you, you'd have probably never seen your family again. So watch yourself. Lots of us don't got a home, or nobody to call. So don't waste what you do got.” With that, he slipped into the alley shadows, and ducked out of sight.

He did as he had promised, and waited to be sure she was with an officer before he left her. Two squad cars continued past, searching for the license plate Castiel had given during his 911 call. But Lou Luciano was long gone. That snake was slippery. Castiel doubted the cops would ever catch up with him. It would probably take another thug to end Luciano. Castiel wasn't ready for it to be him. He had never pulled the trigger. Never killed anyone. The important thing was to leave no doubt in his voice that he would if he needed to.

“Hey, Captain,” a small voice hissed at him once he had slipped back into his own space for the night.

He smiled wearily. “Benjamin. You need something?”

The younger child shook her head. “I'm good. Just checking on you. You been gone a good while, Captain. You okay?”

Castiel closed his eyes briefly, then forced his smile to brighten. “Of course. Who you talking to? Capitani’s always all right, ain't I?”

Benjamin grinned. “Yeah. Hey, Cas?”

He let the child follow him through the rowhouse they were squatting in. Most of the others were passed out on the floor and old couches. They stepped lightly around them and into the small area he used for himself.

Finally, Benjamin spoke again. “I think I got a name.”

“Yeah? What you thinking?”

“Mina. I-I don't want to lose the Benjamin altogether, you know? It was my grandfather’s name. I'm proud of it. But Mina…”

Castiel touched her arm warmly. “Mina is lovely. I'm glad you waited till you found the right one.”

Benjamin-now Mina, it seemed-smiled up at him. “It feels like me. And I wanted to say again...thanks for not caring what me I am. You know?”

“I care that you're you. I don't care much what package you're in. The body is just the vessel, Mina. The soul is what's real.”

“You're a real philosopher, Capitani,” a voice laughed behind him.

Reacting to the voice alone, Castiel whirled on the guy behind him and threw him against the wall to pin him. “Gabriel,” he snarled.

“Whoa! Whoa, son! Back the fuck up. Before I shank your ass.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You gonna do me like this, Cassie? We was always boys!”

“I am not your boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Castiel spat back. “Not so long as you're working for the Angelinos. Might as well be working with Lou Luciano!”

Gabriel's eyes darkened. “I got no business with no Lou Luciano. And the Angelinos ain't got nothing to do with him.” He shoved Castiel away from him and brushed himself off. “Anyway, I'm just checking in on you and your brood. You ain't heard what's going on?”

His blue gaze narrowed. He flicked his eyes at Mina to order her to leave the room. When the door closed behind her, he took a deep breath. “What's going on?”

Gabriel snorted. “Nothing but the fucking End Times, hombre. Get your Ecuadorian ass to Mass because it’s Apocalypse time.”

The snark about his half-Latino side, from his mother, was one of the reasons he got exasperated around Gabriel. “What are you talking about?”

“There's a demon lose in the Borough.”

“Other than you, Romano?”

He received a sneer. “Other than me, ciuccio.”

“Oh, we’re boys, but now I'm a chooch?”

“You called me a demon, fratello.”

“Spade’s a spade, Gabe.”

His childhood friend shrugged. “Okay. Sure. You want I should just leave, and let you find out yourself about the thing out there eating kids?”

Castiel sobered immediately. “What the hell does that mean, eating kids?”

“Mikey Angelino says his boys at the department don't got any idea what it is. Some crazy spostata is grabbing kids at night and ripping them up, like a fucking shtriga like our mamas told us about. I don't know, maybe your mama taught you about some chicken and rice monster. You got like fish taco monsters or something in Ecuador?”

“Focus, Gabe.”

“So this guy is like four kids in already, and the cops is trying to cover it because they got nothing, but anyway, he's hunting street kids, so. You know.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Okay. I'll make sure my kids are in the house at night.”

“You can't watch over every kid in the damn city, fratello. Warn your kids, but don't try to-”

“I have to try. Nobody else is going to. These kids ain't nothing to this city. They got nobody but me.”

A soft smile lit Gabriel's whiskey brown eyes. “Yeah. Well, don't go getting yourself hurt, Capitani. Then none of us got nobody at all. Capiche?"

Castiel smirked. “Yeah. I capiche.”

Now those brown eyes rolled, but Gabriel gave him a laugh.

“Thank you, Gabe. For giving me a heads up. Good looking for me.”

“Yeah. Forget about it. Quit pushing me at walls, and we’ll be even.”

“The Angelinos are bad news, Gabriel.”

His old friend shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe I ain't really in with the Angelinos. Maybe I'm running with the Paganos.”

Castiel’s heart lurched. “They ain't no better,” he said quietly. “And Mikey Angelino or his brother Raphie finds out you're playing for two families, there's gonna be hell to pay.”

Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows at him. “I take care of myself, Cassie. You do the same, all right?”

“All right.”

He watched his old friend slip out the window to the fire escape, moving like a cat in the night. He sighed. Gabriel would take care of himself, because that's what Gabriel did. That didn't mean Castiel wouldn't worry about him, because that's what Castiel did.

And now there was some psycho out there stalking kids like the ones he watched over. Saving a girl from Lou Luciano, and surviving it, should have been his victory for the night. Now he had to go account for as many kids in this hostel as he could, and go out to collect any strays still wandering the city.

They said there was no rest for the wicked. That meant there could be no rest for him either.

When he caught sight of a young, slender kid about his age, creeping through the streets, about an hour later, he sized him up quickly, and decided he could take him if necessary. “Hey, kid,” he hissed.

The guy turned to stare directly into his eyes. “What?”

“Don't know if you heard. Somebody out here messing with kids last few nights. I got a safe house near, if you think you wanna get inside for a night.”

The guy looked around them in all directions, as if he expected something to pounce at any moment. Then he looked back at Castiel.

He had incredible dark eyes, and a handsome face, but Castiel saw something entirely too familiar there too. “And you're hungry too. I got some cans and stuff back at my place. We ain't gonna bother you. But you need something. So come on.”

“Cops are after me,” he blurted out.

Castiel shrugged and turned to walk back home. He could feel the kid following cautiously. “Who ain't they after? Forget about it. Deal with that tomorrow. Eat and sleep someplace safe tonight.”

“Name’s Sam,” the guy muttered.

“And I'm Cas Capitani. And tonight I'm the best friend you got, but I'm real tired, so step light and get in safe so as I can get some shuteye, yeah?”

There was a smile in Sam's voice now. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, man.”

“Forget about it,” he said again, and they walked without another word between them to his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the terms are Italian-American or Ecuadorian-American slang, or specific to Queens. It's somewhat exaggerated, for fun. But I was asked for a glossary, so here is a very loose translation of a few of the phrases. 
> 
> Hombre: Man  
> Ciuccio/Chooch: Jackass  
> Fratello: Brother  
> Spostata: Ass or Idiot  
> Capiche: Understand?  
> Good looking: Thanks for looking out for me.


	2. Bishop

Sam chewed on his lip, the way John hated. He had to admit, it was a lot easier to think-to hope-on a full stomach. Castiel had given him a few protein bars and two cans of stew. He ate both cans cold, which wasn't as unfamiliar as he wished it were. One day, he told himself. One day, he would eat real food, the way it was meant to be eaten. Inside a freaking dorm room.

But now wasn't the time for those plans. As usual, the long goals had to wait till he figured out the here and now.

The here and now sucked.

When John and Dean hadn't returned from the hunt, Sam had waited. Two weeks, he had waited. Then, when the cops had come sniffing around the condemned property where Sam was holing up, where John and Dean had left him, he had been forced to run.

That wasn't entirely accurate. He had been forced to punch an officer, take his gun, and run. He hadn't had time to grab his own weapon. John was going to be pissed to find out Sam had lost his .45. Dean was going to be pissed that he didn't get to see his skinny kid brother take down an officer twice his size.

That was assuming his family was still alive, which they almost certainly were not. And Sam was trying to think about that academically like John would, logistically like Dean would, but he couldn't help thinking of it with his heart instead. Emotionally. Miserably. So it was better to not think of it at all.

No one in this dump had asked what he was doing there. That was a relief. Most of the kids were passing through, and some had plans. Some said they were passing through, but didn't actually seem to be heading anywhere. Some didn't even pretend. And some didn't talk at all. Sam kept his gun close at all times.

Castiel was like the weird social worker slash thug slash big brother. Sam hadn't figured him out, except that he seemed focused on just keeping these kids safe and fed. He didn't seem to care what they had done in the past or what they did now, so long as they didn't do anything to hurt anyone else he looked after. Sam noticed the guy did most of his sleeping during the day, so he could wander the night like a creepy, thuggish Batman in a black leather jacket and baggy jeans.

Sam liked him.

He wasn't sure what it was about the guy that was so interesting. Maybe it was just Sam's brain trying to distract him from where he was, and where John and Dean weren't. But he was fascinated by the one they called Captain.

“Hey! Redfield! Get outta there, huh? You got yours.”

The kid shrugged. “Come on, Cas! I mention I got struck by lightning? How often that happens to a guy, right? Bound to make him extra hungry, know what I mean?”

Castiel smiled at him fondly. “Donnie, you was hit four years ago, bro. You can't use that for everything. You got yours this morning, and I saw you, so go on and leave some for somebody needs it, yeah?” He continued walking down the hall, and Sam could see him counting heads the way a teacher on a field trip would. “Where's Ponzi, huh? Webber, you see Lu Ponzi today?”

The littlest boy shook his head. “No. He's been out for a while. Don't know if he's coming back.”

“Hm.” Castiel stopped when he got to Sam, and he sat on his heels to look him over. “Heya, Sam. You doing okay?”

Sam tried not to smile at him, but he couldn't help it. “Yeah, I'm good. Thanks.”

The young man eyed him closely. He looked unconvinced. “Yeah? I dunno. You need something. One of the boys take the grub I gave you last night? I got more.” His gaze narrowed. “Or you coming off something? I don't got much that'll help with that, but I can get you to a clinic that will take care of you.”

It didn't surprise Sam that by this point, he looked like he was in withdrawal. He needed to shave, he was filthy, and as much as he wanted to pretend he hadn't, he had cried himself to sleep, and probably had streaks of clean through the dust on his face. “I'm okay. Thank you. I just need another day or two to figure out my next move. Then I'll be out of your way.”

Finally, Castiel gave him a weary smile. “You ain't in the way, kid. Stay as long as you need. It's no business of mine. I take what strays walk in the door at night, and I feed whatever ones is still here in the morning. So figure out as many moves as you need before you get back to your board.”

He had stood and turned to leave, but Sam called to him from the corner under a set of stairs, which he had claimed for himself. “What's that mean? My board?”

The older boy shrugged again. “Nevermind. Just-A chessboard. You said you was figuring out your next move. I said stay as long as you need to, and figure out as many moves ahead as you can.”

A slow smile crossed Sam's face. “You play chess?”

Suddenly, the guy, who was probably about nineteen, looked like he was about eleven years old. His ears were turning pink. “No, I...I mean, of course I do. Everybody does. And anyway, don't I live in Queens? I'm one of her knights, trying to protect her, by keeping her pawns safe. These kids is on the front lines every damn day, and somebody gotta look out for them till they can take care of themselves, you know?”

“I've always thought of myself as the bishop.”

Castiel began to laugh. “Yeah? You look like a rook to me. Straight lines.”

Sam hummed in derision. “I think you'd be surprised. Tonight, you want to play a game? If you’ve got a board.”

“Yeah, I got a board,” Castiel confirmed. He was watching Sam with warm interest. “Okay. When I come in tonight, if you're still awake, I'll kick your Southern ass at chess. Yeah?”

He laughed again. “Yeah, okay. Except...I'm from Kansas. Not Georgia.”

There was a quirk of amusement in Castiel's lips. “Ain't that where the tornados are? We had like four fucking tornados in the last thirty years or something.”

“Kansas gets like a hundred a year.”

“No wonder you ran away to Queens.” He winked at Sam, and continued down the hall and out of the building without another word.

Sam went back to chewing on his lip, but this time he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always enjoy using obscure characters in my fics. Most of Castiel's kids are prophets in the show, including those Crowley captured.


	3. Knight

Ponzi didn't come back to the rowhouse again.

Castiel tried telling himself that it was just another kid moving on. They all moved on eventually. Even Gabriel Romano had moved on eventually. Castiel hated him for that, especially considering what he had moved on to. Castiel still kept tabs on the man he had thought of as a brother for as long as he could remember, and he didn't like the people he was hanging out with now. They were shady.

But Ponzi wasn't Gabriel. He was a weird teenager who mostly just sat around and stared. Castiel had thought he was high at first, but had come to realize the kid just wasn't all there. He was harmless, but he tended to talk about biblical visions and the End Times if he talked at all. Castiel figured that was what happened when parents named a dorky kid Luigi Ponzi and sent him to a Catholic school full of punks who had been kicked out of PS 87 but weren't bad enough for juvie.

Ponzi hadn't shown any signs of moving on. In fact, the kid’s only real possession, a silver knife, had been left behind. Castiel wanted to believe Ponzi had moved on. But he didn't.

Castiel had lost kids. An OD here, a suicide there, a brawl that ended tragically. And kids slipped out of his life all the time, and he just had to hope he had done everything he could to help them along the way. But knowing somebody was out there stalking street kids, and knowing there was nothing he could do about it, was flaying his nerves.

So he nearly leapt out of his skin when Sam spoke. “You still up for a game?”

He had been staring up at the ceiling, lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head, and now he realized he was also shirtless and barefoot. He sat up quickly. “Sam!”

There was a strange look on the new kid’s face. Castiel couldn't quite identify what the expression was. “I can...come back. You're upset about something.”

Castiel was often solitary in spite of his role as den brother to a bunch of transient kids. But he found that he didn't really want to be alone just then. “No, wait. I'm good. I'm real good. Sit. You just got a habit of sneaking, you know? You don't make much noise when you walk.”

Sam was smiling. “Yeah? You don't make any.”

He shrugged, and reached for his shirt. “Yeah, well, that's for good reason.”

“You don't...You don't have to-If you're hot.”

He blinked, then realized Sam was referring to his tee shirt.

The kid was pinkening a little at the cheekbones, and Castiel thought that was pretty cute, even if he wasn't sure why. “I mean, obviously you're hot.” The pink brightened into a red almost immediately, and his eyes widened. “Be-because you wouldn't have it off if-if you weren't hot. Warm. It's warm in here. I'm just saying if you're not-you don't have to put it on for me. Unless you want to. Because I don't care either way.”

“I'm good,” Castiel said again, narrowing his gaze. He felt like he had missed part of their conversation.

Sam nodded, and sighed. “Yeah. Of course you are. Sorry.”

“We playing chess?” He honestly wasn't sure what they were doing, so he thought he had better clarify. He pulled the tee shirt over his neck and smoothed it down.

“Yeah.”

“Board is there. Grab it, will you?”

Sam hurried to retrieve the wooden box somewhat hidden inside part of the wall. “Somebody gonna steal a chess board?”

Castiel smiled wearily at his possession. He opened the box, and began to set out his pieces lovingly. “I made this board. Only thing I really got. Couple of tee shirts, two pairs of jeans, my leather jacket, all rolled into a bag, a gun, a knife...and this.”

The kid looked at the pieces with new interest. “You made this? It's beautiful!”

A warmth filled him as he stared down at a bishop with pride. “I haven't carved in a long time,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But it always made me...very happy.”

“You should do more of it.”

A familiar ache stung him, and he had to shake himself. “There’s more important things to worry about now,” he sighed. “Like why one of my kids ain't coming back to the house as always. He's been a regular every night since we moved to this house from the last place I holed up in, and now he's gone for two nights? Something ain't right. Can't say as I love the guy, you know? But he's one of mine, and I get to worrying.”

Sam nodded. “You take good care of these kids.”

He gave Sam a shrug. “Just make sure as they got food and soap and a roof. Most won't go to the shelters, scared of being shipped back to whatever chased them out in the first place. But the alternative is being prey for the families or the thugs. If I could send every one of them home to a safe family, I'd do it, but you know. Best I can do is give them a big brother to worry about them.”

For a moment, it looked like Sam had been slapped in the face. Then he frowned down at the board. “Yeah. Well, let’s play.”

Castiel was used to guys not wanting to tell their stories. He never asked. If they wanted to tell, they did. If they didn't, pushing could make them run. He wanted them to feel safe. That was the whole point. Nobody had done that for him. He wanted to be the one to do it for them.

Sam played white, at Castiel's insistence. The kid was good, and fun to play against, but there was never any true danger of Castiel losing. Sam played with his intelligence, which was impressive, but it was clear he was mostly inexperienced. If someone had trained Sam, Castiel could see that he would be unstoppable. As it was, Castiel lay on his stomach and lazily countered the boy’s moves, and enjoyed the distraction.

By the fourth game, Sam was growing frustrated. “I’m never going to beat you.”

“No,” Castiel agreed. “But give you some time, and some practice, and you might bring me to a stalemate.”

“That's generous,” the boy sulked. “I doubt it.”

He smiled contentedly. “You ain't bad, Kansas. And you ain't predictable, and that's nice. I gotta stay awake to beat you, and that ain't nothing.”

Sam snorted.

He sat up at last, and stretched. “Look, let's even things up a bit, yeah?” He reset the board, but this time, he gave Sam his full arsenal while only placing his pawns, knights and king on his side.

His opponent began to laugh. “I'll definitely win now!”

Castiel rarely felt such an easy smile. “Will you, boy?”

Sam smiled back.

To his credit, it was a far more challenging game, and Castiel had to concentrate instead of simply stay awake. But in the end, the song remained the same.

This time, as his king was placed in checkmate, Sam burst into laughter. “You're amazing! Or am I just that awful?”

It was such a pleasure to be playing with someone who was both fiercely competitive and yet a good sport. Castiel couldn't count how many times Gabriel had flipped a board in anger. They refused to play one another anymore, Gabriel because he couldn't stand to lose, and Castiel because he couldn't stand a poor loser.

And it didn't hurt that Sam had such a genuine smile on such a handsome face.

“You ain't awful,” Castiel chuckled back. “I been playing since before I could talk. And I play a handful of games in the park every day, against some of the best in the world. There ain't a classroom anywhere better than getting your ass kicked by a bunch of old men in a park.”

“Really?”

He laughed. “Think I'm decent? I'm all right. These guys bust my ass every damn day. Best moments of my life, losing to those old jackasses.”

Sam's eyes were soft when he looked up. “Yeah? I think I'd be intimidated.”

“They're good guys. You just gotta know how to do it, you know? I grew up with those guys. Like uncles, some of them.”

“I've got a guy like that. Bobby. He's a friend. Or...he was. Till my dad pissed him off last. Now...Anyway, he taught me chess. My brother too. I played against my dad sometimes, but I get too nervous, and he's too competitive, and-and Dean never takes it seriously unless Dad's watching, and then he's brutal, and it doesn't matter if I win or lose. Either way, it sucks.”

Castiel inspected one of his knights. “It's a game. Shouldn't be a chore.”

“Tell my dad that. The way we were raised was-I mean...Chess is the least of it.” Then Sam sighed. “But I guess I shouldn't talk like that, considering he's probably…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, thanks for the game. I've never enjoyed losing so much.”

The Captain was used to being alone. He was usually out prowling at this time of night anyway. But he had spent the day, when he was normally catching a few hours of sleep, working a job for one of the restaurant owners who hired him now and then. They liked having a kid they could pay under the table when they needed a dishwasher or busser, or to run deliveries whenever they were understaffed. They knew he was a hard worker, and they gave him any leftovers that were going toward the dumpster, since they probably suspected he was feeding more than just himself. Everyone in Castiel's charge had eaten well tonight. Except Ponzi. He had gotten out of work, brought the food back to the brood, then spent two hours out looking for the crazy prophet.

Being used to being alone and wanting to be alone were two different things, especially tonight.

“Hey, Kansas. You don't gotta go. If you don't want.”

Sam turned back to him. “You seem tired.”

He laughed quietly. “Ain't I always tired? Come on. Sit back down. How old are you, Sam?”

The boy moved slowly to sit again, cautiously. “Eighteen.”

“How old you really?”

“Seventeen.” Sam scowled. “But I'll be eighteen in a month. So nearly. How old are you?”

“Forty-two.”

Sam snickered. “Yeah? You look great!”

“Thanks. I work out.” Castiel winked at him, then shook his head. “Nah. I'm nineteen. I been out here doing what I do since I was twelve. For a year before that I was one of those lost kids out there. Took me getting my ass kicked, and being so hungry I'd do anything for bite, before I figured out how the street works. And then once I could take care of myself, I figured I could take care of anybody else too, if I needed, you know? One got to be three, got to be five. Now I just take care of whatever shows up at my door at night. I don't ask no questions. Just get the kid through the night, let him decide if he's coming back the next one.”

“You've been on the street since you were eleven? Eight years?”

“Kansas does math,” he teased. “Yeah. Thereabouts.”

“So...what? Your parents…?”

Castiel shrugged. “My dad disappeared. I think it was the Angelinos done him, but nobody can say. My mom ODed not long after. I ran from the foster system, and nobody looked real hard for the Italian Latino kid who didn't have nowhere to go.”

“That's terrible!”

“Everybody’s got a story, Kansas.”

Sam looked at his hands for a while. Then he sighed. “My mom’s dead too. Fire, when I was a baby.”

“Sorry, kid.”

“Yeah. And my dad and big brother...Well, they're gone.”

Castiel nodded in sympathy. “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then a shriek sent them both leaping to their feet. Castiel’s gun was out, in both hands, and a surprised glance at Sam revealed that the Kansan kid had one of his own, and he seemed perfectly confident in holding it in two steady hands, as if he were trained by the military. Or the police. Sam looked at Castiel as if awaiting orders.

He would have to deal later with the fact that this “kid” was most likely a narc.

Castiel flew into the main room of the rowhouse, and was met with a tiny crowd of his kids surrounding one terrified one in the center. “Webber! What happened?” he demanded.

“Got-got Ponzi!” the kid wailed. “Got Ponzi!”

Sam took a step forward. “What did, Aaron? What did you see?”

The kid was shaking head to toe. It broke Castiel's heart. “I don't know!” he sobbed.

Castiel pushed through the group. “Abasta! Come on, boys. Get outta here, will ya? Let the kid breathe! I got him. Gavones! You got nothing better to do than stare at a scared kid? Fuck outta here. Go on.”

By the time he had dispersed the gawkers, he turned to find Sam kneeling beside where Aaron was curled into a corner. “What happened?”

“I was down by the Duane Reade, and I felt something was watching me. And I looked...Ponzi was all broke. He was all broke, Captain!”

And so was Castiel's heart. He dropped down to wrap his arms around Aaron, and wanted to block the whole world from hurting him. “Aw, kid, I'm so sorry you saw that. Was he shot or beat up? Who was it done this?” If Lou Luciano had exacted revenge for Castiel's interference on some harmless street kid, Castiel was going to kill him. Finally, really kill him. For hurting poor Ponzi, for the way Aaron was clutching him so tightly. He was going to kill that monster.

“No, Cap! Not like that! He was broke up!”

Sam pushed forward now. “Like he was ripped apart? Aaron, was anything...missing?”

Castiel turned to stare at him.

But the younger boy nodded. “Whoever done it, they...God, Cap, they took his hands. His hands!”

As he watched, Sam's face went gray-white, and he swallowed hard. “You're sure? His hands?”

Aaron began to sob.

Sam nodded slowly. “Okay. Cas, get your kids inside, and away from any windows or doors, and definitely any cupboards.”

“And where you think you going?”

Sam heaved a sigh. “My family might be gone. But I'm still a Winchester. And this thing isn't going to stop till somebody stops him. Leave me alone. I got work to do.”

Castiel watched the kid grab his jacket from his space, and tucked his gun away.

Aaron looked up at him, and he could feel the others staring at him too. Castiel stood back and cleared his throat. “You heard him,” he barked. “Get everybody together. Donnie, pull out some cards and get these kids playing some poker, you know?”

“What about you?”

Castiel’s gaze followed Sam as he slipped out into the night. “I ain't gonna let Kansas get killed, now am I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Loose Translation of Terms:
> 
> Abasta: Enough!  
> Gavones: Idiots


	4. Jester

A werewolf would be bad enough. He had been sure Aaron would say Ponzi’s chest had been ripped open and his heart torn out. But hands. 

Well, he was Sam Winchester, and if he had to be a hunter one more time, he would. He was the only one who knew how to kill this thing, or even what it was, and that meant he had a responsibility to end it. 

He wished John and Dean were here with him. He wished they were there instead of him. 

He could hear Bobby's voice in his head. “It's the damn bogeyman, is what it is.”

“There's a real bogeyman?” Sam had cried out. 

A bit of sympathy sparked in the older man's eyes. “It's a real thing.”

“Too many things are a thing,” the boy had grumbled. 

“I'll agree with you on that.”

“What about dragons?”

Bobby had smirked. “Naw, they ain't real. But one day I'll tell you about the time a buddy of mine met up with the Loch Ness critter.”

Sam had sighed and dropped his chin onto his hand. “Okay. Teach me about the freaking bogeyman. Which are words no other kid ever had to say before, by the way.”

Rawheads. 

They were the things every desperate or sadistic parent ever warned their kids about when trying to make them behave. They went by a hundred different names in dozens of different cultures. They were Bloody Bones, they were bogey or boogeymen, they were everything kids feared about the dark. Sam knew there were thousands of things to fear about the dark, but this creature represented every evil monster normal kids were afraid of. Rawheads sought out kids who had guilt in their hearts, and they sucked the marrow from their bones, and bathed in their blood. 

And didn't every kid have guilt in them? Didn't every kid wonder if they were doing everything wrong? Every child lied eventually, everyone did something they were ashamed of at some point. It wasn't fair that there was a beast out there that fed on those insecurities. It wasn't fair at all. 

Rawheads grabbed kids in the night, from cupboards and under beds, from closets and dark alleys, and they ate their bones and bathed in blood, and they stole hands or feet from their victims to play with and snack on later. The phalanges were small enough to keep in a pocket and crunch into, or to play knick knack on while awaiting the next guilty child. Or so said the lore. So said Bobby.

At least a werewolf could be shot from a distance with a silver round. Why, of all the evil sons of bitches out there, did this have to be a rawhead? 

“Are you there, God? It's me, Sam,” he muttered with bitter humor. “I don't know what I ever did to piss you off, but I'm really not a bad guy. Okay? I try to not be a bad guy. And that's got to count for something. That's better than a lot of folks.”

God didn't answer. He never seemed to, probably because Sam was always sarcastic when he spoke to Him. He had prayed every night since he had been forced to leave that place John had told him to stay in, but it had always dissolved into bitterness. 

“And, Dean, if you're not dead, I'm gonna kill you for this. Making me face a damn rawhead alone. God, please don't be dead,” he added miserably. “But if you're not, I'm going to kick your ass. A freaking rawhead, jerk.”

He waited for the response his brother always gave, and felt tears burn his eyes when only silence answered him. His hand wiped brutally at his eyes. A hunter who didn't keep his head would lose it, John would have scolded him. 

Several paces later, a voice did speak, but it wasn't Dean. “What's a rawhead?”

Sam whirled, aiming his gun at the sound. “What?” He lowered the weapon immediately. “Cas! What the hell?”

The thug watched him. “What's a rawhead?”

His eyes rolled, and he put his gun away again. It wouldn't hurt a rawhead anyway. Probably just piss it off. “It's what I'm hunting. Why aren't you inside?”

The older boy shrugged. “Wasn't gonna let you get your own damn hands broke off. I don't know what the fuck kinda psycho does that, but I can't let you go after him alone, son.”

“Thank you. Now go away. I know what I'm doing and you'll just slow me down. Or you'll get hurt.”

Amusement shone in the dark blue eyes. “You? Kansas, I been haunting this fucking territory since you was still too young to drive a damn tractor.”

Sam's lips quirked into a smile. “I never drove a tractor, jackass. I'm not that kind of Kansan.”

“Yeah, well, you ain't any kind of New York, bro. Come on back inside, capiche? It's getting mad fucked up on these streets, kids getting their damn hands tore off. I don't know why you fronting like you can do something about the psycho done this, but you don't gotta take it there. Real talk, boy, we out. Give me something I can punch, I'm there, you know, but this psycho is out of my league. I'm dead ass, get the fuck off the damn street and in the hole, you know?”

Sam blinked twice. “I have no idea what you're saying.” He shook his head. “But it doesn't matter. We’ll both be dead ass if you get in my way while I'm tracking this thing.”

Castiel looked confused now, but he stood firm. “You gonna tell me what the fuck a rawhead is? That some kind of cop talk?”

“What? What are you even talking about?”

“I knew you was a narc. So? You looking for the guy that done this, but you ain't called for no backup from the blue? That's real stupid. Any guy gets his rocks off by gutting some poor street kid, you think he ain't gonna have himself a cop that looks like a kid? He's like to drop your pretty ass, no doubt!”

It was like when Bobby peppered his words with curses in Japanese. Sam sighed. “Cas, look. I'm a hunter.”

“And that might mean something if we was out with some damn geese, but we-”

“No. Shut up. Listen. I'm a hunter. Me and my family, it's what we do. We hunt things that hurt people. Werewolves, ghosts, ghouls...Basically, we track down evil things and cut their heads off or shoot them with silver and iron.”

“You fucking with me?”

“No! And the thing that got Ponzi is a rawhead. It's-it's a bogeyman.”

Castiel stared. 

“Look, I know what this sounds like.”

“Yeah? Because, not for nothing, but it sounds like you ran outta meds.”

At last, Sam let out nervous laughter. “Yeah. Yeah, I know it does. And I wish it were that. But it isn't. And if you don't want more kids getting torn up, I've got to hunt this thing. I'm the only one who can.”

The older kid nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, so...what do we do? How you fixing to stop a rawhead?”

Surprise softened Sam's eyes. “Uh...electricity. It's the only thing. They're really strong and it's hard to kill them. But if you can pump it full of electricity, it's done.”

“No more dead kids?”

“No more dead kids,” he confirmed. 

Castiel shrugged. “So...like a taser?”

Sam's eyes widened. “Yes! You've got one?”

“Naw, they ain't legal in the City.”

He smirked. “Yeah? You follow the law to the letter, do you?”

“I'm an upstanding citizen, son.” He winked. “But I know somebody ain't. You need a taser? I got you. No doubt.”

This buddy of Castiel's was sketchy. Sam disliked him immediately, and he wasn't sure Castiel liked him either, considering the way they were talking to one another. But he needed a taser if he were going to have a chance at the rawhead. So he stood back and watched them. 

“The fuck you need a taser for, Capitani? Ain't you got a gun?”

“You ain't got it, say you ain't got it. Don't waste my time grilling me.”

“I didn't say I ain't got it! I got you, my dude! Chill.” This man disappeared into the apartment, calling over his shoulder. “Get the fuck in, will you? I don't need nobody looking at my business.”

Sam followed Castiel into the studio with wide eyes. “Cas, who is this guy?”

“Gabriel and me grew up together. His dad and my dad went to the same prison when we was in primary.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel called from where he was rummaging. “A real fucking sweet story. Except yours got out and jetted, and mine got shipped Upstate for another twelve.”

“He didn't jet, okay? He was chased out. Probably gunned down by your Angelinos buddies.”

“Least I know where my old man is. He ain't going nowhere.” Then Gabriel grinned. “Here it is! A no-safety taser for your new fidanzato.”

Suddenly, Castiel looked strangely out of sorts. “He-he ain't my fidanzato.”

“No? He hangs on every word like Oren always did.”

Castiel ground his teeth. “I didn't encourage Oren. I told you that.”

“Oren didn't need you encouraging. He needed your attention.”

Sam took a step back. He had been examining the new weapon, and mostly ignoring the confusing talk around him. But now there was a hot tension between these two young men. “Cas?”

But the blue eyes were glowering at the guy he had described as a friend. “What Oren did, I had nothing to do with that. Kid was dumb messed up. I tried to-”

Gabriel's whiskey brown eyes flashed in anger. “You want I should just pretend it never happened? I got you. You take care of all those fucking street rats, but my kid brother come to you, ciuccio, and you turn him out. Why? Because he a finocchio like you?”

Castiel’s voice was deep and quiet now. “You want to catch hands, Romano? That what you want? You want to go there?”

“Kid was fucking in love with you, Capitani!”

Realization crossed Castiel's face. “You been drinking, Gabriel.”

He burst into laughter and tears at the same time. 

Sam stared. 

“I thought maybe you was knocking at my door because you remembered it was his birthday, fratello. Thought maybe you was here to say you miss him too. But no, you only go to a Romano when you need something. Ain't I always been there for you, fratello? Brothers, we was, always. Till my little brother killed his fucking self because you never would even look at him.”

Castiel lowered his eyes. “I'm out, Gabriel.”

But the young man reached to grab his arm, and Castiel threw him to the floor reflexively. He lay there and laughed. “You fucking spic. Fenooch. Yeah, I'm drunk. You already know. I'm mad drunk. Because it's my kid brother’s birthday, you chooch!”

“What's this about? I don't understand half the things you're saying!”

This brought on a peal of nauseating laughter from Gabriel. “You ain't from here,” he concluded. “Your boyfriend Capitani, he got a history of breaking hearts, ain't you, Cassie?”

Sam jerked up straight. “Boy-boyfriend!”

“He's a fenooch, just like my kid brother Oren. But unlike Oren, he’s a heartless bitch.”

Castiel closed his eyes. “Fratello,” he began softly.

“Don't you call me that!” Gabriel snapped. He lurched to his feet. “You could've been that! I'd’ve gave you two a big fucking Italian wedding, you know that? I'd let the Church excommunicate my ass just to see that kid happy! And to be your real fucking brother? But you didn't want him. He worshipped you!”

Sam looked from one to the other silently. 

Then Castiel surprised him by reaching forward and pulling Gabriel into an embrace. Gabriel beat his fist onto him weakly, then let himself sob onto his old friend’s chest in defeat. “I didn't kill Oren, Gabe. I didn't love him the way he wanted, fratello, but I loved him like he was my kid brother too. ‘Course I remembered his birthday, estupido. But I lost another kid today, and I got to keep it from happening again, you know? This kid here, he thinks he knows something about something, and I gotta do what I can to help him. I couldn't help Oren, Gabriel. You know that.”

Sam watched as Gabriel nodded with eyes squeezed closed. “I know. But I could've. And instead I didn't see he was hurting till it was over.”

“He had a lot of problems, Gabe. Oren...Maybe he obsessed a little on me, you know, but he had a something messed up in his head. It wasn't you, fratello. Wasn't me. But I'll carry that guilt all my life, that I didn't find a way to help him.”

“Me too.” Gabriel sniffed and shoved himself backward. “Go on. Fuck outta here. You got trouble tonight. Want I should call in some of the Pagano boys? My boy Ganesh would-”

“No,” Sam said quickly. “No, the fewer I've got with me, the better. Cas shouldn't even tag along.”

The whiskey eyes lit in a grin, as if Gabriel had not been crying in heartbreak just a moment ago. Sam wondered if maybe Oren weren't the only Romano who excelled at hiding pain. “You a tagalong, Capitani? All this time, I thought you was in charge.”

Castiel watched Sam with a small smile. “Apparently not. Kansas here has it all under control.”

“Yeah? All the same, you headed out for trouble, I better be a tagalong too, know what I'm saying?”

“Gabriel, no. We're out after that thing what likes ripping up kids. You stay here.”

“Come on. What am I gonna do? Sit and drink to death instead? Rather see this thing chew you up and choke on you.”

Castiel glared at him. 

Gabriel winked. “Right. So? We got one fallen angel with a God complex, one trickster thug with a flask filled with amaretto, and a boy from Kansas with a fucking taser. Let's hit the yellow brick fucking road, then, Dorothy.”

“So long as you don't bring your fucking dog,” Castiel sighed. 

“Hey, Loki!” Gabriel called. “Cassie says you ain't invited. I die, you gotta feed your own self, you know?”

“You named your dog Loki?” Sam sneered. 

“He's a Jackie Russell. He needs a powerful name, you know? Gives him confidence.”

At last, Sam and Castiel both laughed a little, and it was as though the entire conversation about Oren had never happened. Sam had a feeling Gabriel preferred it that way. The guy seemed a little too dependent upon his street persona. 

“Cassie, you should go grab you a pair of kicks whiles you here. I got some in your size back there. Yours is looking real beat up.”

“Can't pay you, Gabe. You know that.”

“Eh,” he muttered. “Forget about it. I'll take it outta you someday.”

The captain lowered his eyes, and disappeared into the one closed room. 

Gabriel turned to Sam then. “He is, you know?”

Sam frowned. “Is what?”

“A fucking fallen angel. What I said about him just now...Don't pay attention to any of that. I'm still sick about my baby brother, and I get mad tight when I'm drinking, but I know better. Cas...He's one of the good guys. I know he beats his own self up about Oren. But he's right. The kid had issues, and he might've said it was because of Cas that he done himself, but I know Cas never wanted that. If it wasn't for Capitani, I'd have done the same thing what Oren did. Can't say as I'm the picture of mental healthfulness, but I do okay, and there ain't nobody to thank for that but Cas. Fratello...It's brother.”

Sam nodded slowly. “And fenooch?” he said in a stern accusation.

Gabriel snorted. “Finocchio. Fennel. Fag. But I mean it in a loving kinda way, you know?” He winked again. “He's a good guy, and you got eyes on him like Oren did. Just be careful, you know? He got a hard shell, but he been beat up a lot on the inside. For one thing? Ain't no Angelinos took down his daddy. Papa Capitani took off his own damn self, soon as they opened his cage. But Cas won't never believe that. And it hurts him every fucking day. So he takes care of kids he knows is gonna break his heart, because nobody took no care of him. And he helps a lot of people, but in the end, he's still just alone, you know? All those kids move on, but him, he's stuck. He's gonna get killed one day, ghosting Queens like he do, and he knows it. Just...be careful. Guy like that...He ain't never learned to let nobody care about him, you get me?”

He wasn't sure how to respond, but it didn't matter, because Castiel emerged from the other room then, in a new pair of shoes. He held his hands out as if to ask Gabriel what he thought. 

“Yeah, you're real pretty, now you ain't in those bootyass knockoffs.”

“Fuck off,” the Captain laughed, somewhat shyly, Sam noted with amusement. 

“So? We killing some psycho bitch or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Loose Translation of Terms:
> 
> Mad or Dumb: Really/Very  
> Fronting: Putting up a front/pretending  
> Dead ass (which Sam misunderstands): I'm serious  
> Fidanzato: Boyfriend   
> Spic: Slur for Spanish-speaker, Latino   
> Finocchio/fenooch: Slur for gay man  
> Estupido: Stupid  
> Kicks: Shoes


	5. Rook

Green eyes blinked several times. “Sam,” the patient croaked futilely around the tube in his throat. It simply made a horrific noise that frightened him. The eyes widened. His wrists were bound to the hospital bed, and he couldn't move, which may have been just as well, since his panic was telling him to tear out the tubes and wires all over him. 

There was an overwhelming fear chilling him. Somehow, he had to get to Sam. Sam needed him. He knew it. Somewhere, his kid brother was scared. 

A nurse hurried in. “Dean? Dean Smith? Hey, honey. You awake?”

He stared at her. 

She patted his hand. “It's okay. You're going to be okay. I need to leave for just a moment, but I'll be right back. Okay?”

“My...dad…” he managed. 

A cloud came over the nurse’s eyes then. “He had to go, Mr. Smith. He told us to tell you to read the note he left for you. But for right now…”

It didn't really matter what he was supposed to do for right now. Dean's eyes closed without his permission, and he reentered the blackness from which he had clawed.


	6. Rogue

It shouldn't have been so easy to track the rawhead.

Sam said he knew it would be inclined toward the sewers or other underground place where it could hole up. Castiel had felt a complete dread at the thought. He glanced at Gabriel, who cringed and shrugged.

“You mean like...the crypts?”

Sam frowned. “Maybe. Someplace he could hide and sleep off his kills. Dead quiet.”

“There's some right near where Ponzi got killed. If you know where to look.”

“Who is this kid, Capitani? This was a fun distraction, no doubt. But you seriously going down to the crypts?”

Castiel sighed. “A guy that could rip up a kid and take his hands like that, you think he wouldn't be as close to Hell as you can get in Queens?”

“What's down there?”

He turned back to Sam. “Aside from dead dudes from generations back? Mostly rats, I guess. Might be underground, but it's still Queens.”

“You know how to get there?”

Castiel sighed again. “Yeah, I got you. But for the record, this is dumb crazy.”

Sam agreed. “It is. It's dumb and crazy. Which is why you two shouldn't be coming along.”

Gabriel snorted. “Dumb and crazy,” he repeated. “Whatever-two of you probably won't even fit in some of those spaces. You need me. I'm the Jackie Russell of the team, you know. Compact. I fit in tight places.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “If you get my drift.”

His old friend rolled his eyes. “Hard not to.”

“Enough,” Sam said. “If you're coming, at least stay quiet, and if anything happens, stay behind me. Cas, show me where to look.”

He led them to the hidden part of the city, near where Webber had seen Ponzi. Sam investigated that spot and sighed upon rejoining the group. “He's gone, but it's a mess over there. Cops didn't find him. Rawhead came back for the rest.”

Castiel flinched, and closed his eyes. Gabriel spoke up. “How you know that?”

“No caution tape. Nobody staking out. No forensics team leaves that much gore behind. Cops don't know about this one yet. The body was moved that way.”

“This guy for fucking real, Cap?”

Sam looked up and must have suddenly realized that both of the older boys were turning gray. “I'm-I'm sorry. He was a friend of yours. I don't mean to refer to him...My dad's usually the one who does the talking to the grieving friends and family. I'm more of the research kind of guy.”

Gabriel looked a little sick to his stomach, and Castiel guessed he was beginning to regret a few of his beverage choices for the evening. “Oh, good,” he muttered. “We’re after a psycho, and my dude on point ain't much for fieldwork. Good to know.”

Sam's jaw clenched. “And if you had any other options, I'd say take them! But do you know any other hunters? No. Because most of them are dead.” Tears were filling his eyes now, sparkling in the street lights. “You know the shelf life of a hunter? I’ll give you a hint. He tends to expire within a few minutes of his first encounter. So the fact that I've been trained to hunt these things my whole life, and I'm nearly eighteen, I'm probably the best choice of any hunter in the entire northeast right now, since my dad and brother are...are probably dead! So screw you. I'm the only choice, and I'm a damn good one, so consider yourselves lucky.”

Castiel pointed to a hidden stone stairway in an alley nearby. “Sam,” he muttered hoarsely.

The kid wiped at his eyes angrily, and looked toward the stairs. He glanced back where they had walked. With a quick sniff, he nodded. “That was where he was headed,” he confirmed.

Gabriel shook his head. “It's down there.”

Castiel looked at him in surprise. There was something strange in his friend's voice. Fear, no doubt, but also certainty. “You think so?”

Sam began checking his taser, which he had modified somehow before leaving the apartment.

While he did so, Castiel watched Gabriel. “Fratello?”

Gabriel was staring at the stone entrance. “It's under there. Under that old church.”

“You okay?”

Sam glanced at each of them, then continued tweaking his weapon.

His friend took a few slow steps toward the hidden passage. They were in an alley beside what had once been the site of a large church, but was now bunch of bodegas and shops. There was no one around, which was eerie for a city dweller like Castiel. It was almost like an aura of evil was making people steer clear. But it had the opposite effect on Gabriel. He was drawing nearer, as if compelled.

“Gabriel?”

“I'm going down there. He got to pay for what he done.”

Sam frowned, but did not look up.

Castiel grabbed Gabriel's arm. “Wait, son. We wait for Kansas.”

“This ain't about him,” Gabriel growled. “This is between me and him. Oren was my responsibility.”

Sam's head jerked up, just in time to see Gabriel yank his arm away and stalk quickly for the underground entrance. He looked at Castiel, then hurried after him. “Hey! Get back behind me! This isn't-”

Castiel caught up with them on the stairs. Gabriel was hissing Italian curses at Sam, who held his arm. Castiel lent his own strength. “What are you doing? Hermano, fratello, listen!”

“Get off me!” Gabriel shoved Sam and Castiel and fled down the stairs into the darkness. He burst through the rusted chains on the heavy wooden door blocking entry into the condemned space.

“This was too easy,” Sam panted from where he had fallen onto the stone stairs. “Of course it was too easy!”

Castiel tried to make out the kid’s face in the dark. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“It's drawing us in! It's why you knew just where to go. You can feel it!”

And it was so. Castiel realized, with a sharp metallic taste of fear filling his mouth and throat, that he had no idea why he had led Gabriel and Sam to this particular spot. Queens was full of hidden areas. But as soon as Sam had described the sort of place a rawhead liked, both Castiel and Gabriel had known just where to go.

“It's feeding from you,” Sam cried. “Both of you! Get back up there! I'll get Gabriel safe! Go, Cas!”

He hadn't believed before. Sam had rambled about mysterious creatures and movie monsters, but Castiel realized he had not actually believed until just this moment. There was something coming from inside his own heart, pulling him downward instead of toward the surface. Something terrible. Something supernatural. “No,” he growled. “No, I can't. I lost Oren. I lost my father. I lost my mother. I can't lose Gabriel.”

Horror struck Sam's face now. “Cas, it's the guilt! The rawhead senses guilt and shame, and pulls you in with it! He brings you to him, and then he breaks you open! Cas, you gotta-”

“I don't care!” Castiel snarled. “It's my fault Gabriel is even here! If this psycho gotta break something, it should be me!” With that, he crashed through the useless door, and sprinted straight into the darkness.

“Cas! Cas!”

He could hear the young hunter calling to him, and part of him ached with affection for the kid who tried to save him. No one had ever tried to save him. For this brave, brilliant young man to care enough to try...His heart pounded with gratitude for it. Unfortunately, he was still heading directly for Gabriel and the monster who was waiting to feed on them. All the same, he was thankful for the handsome boy with the sad eyes, who thought he deserved to be saved.


	7. Adversary

John had done the best he could. They had told themselves and one another that for over a decade. But doing the best he could and being the best for his sons were two different things, and too much fell through that gaping void in between. Sam wanted out. More than anything, he wanted out. 

And now he was running headlong into a dark crypt, with little more than a flashlight and a taser, a mind full of encyclopedic knowledge and a heart full of grief and terror. What the hell was wrong with him?

The thought that John would be proud of him for opting to try and save these kids...It was merely a passing thought. He had longed for his father's pride, just as Dean had, but he didn't need it like Dean did. And he wasn't doing this for John. He was doing this because he was the only one who could. 

What if it were Dean down there?

Since he was fourteen, Sam had been allowed to go on hunts with his father and brother. He had wanted that, but only as an alternative to being left behind. How many times over the years had he stared at a wall in an empty motel room or at Bobby's or Pastor Jim’s, and told Sully how lonely he was? How many times had he studied Latin and lore alone in a library in some town, too shy and too busy to speak to anyone real?

Thank God for Sully. But he was too old for that now. All he had was Dean and his plans for getting out, and those two entities were at odds in his heart. Dean would never understand why he had to go. So it would come down to breaking his brother's heart to live the safe life he wanted. Not normal. It was far too late for normal. But he could start over and live safe somewhere. 

Now Dean was gone, and there was just getting out. So why was he still descending into this horrible place, the place Castiel had described as closest to Hell?

Because what if it were Dean down there?

Sam heard the angry cursing from Gabriel before he could see anything. Then he rounded a corner, and there was candlelight flickering everywhere. He blinked at the disorienting shadows in the large space. 

Gabriel and Castiel were facing an enormous creature. While Gabriel was hissing expletives at it, Castiel was simply staring in horror. 

The rawhead wasn't exactly like the drawings in the lore books, but then things rarely were. It was covered in hair all over its pale gray, decaying skin. There were bloodstains on his face and arms, and blood literally dripped from his claws. He was looking directly into Gabriel's eyes. 

“You fucking killed him, you ugly bitch! And I couldn't-I couldn't…” The thing’s stare seemed to beat Gabriel down, and tears washed over his face. “I didn't save him. I didn't save…”

Castiel grabbed for his friend's arm. “No!” He addressed the monster now, in a deep, bold voice. “Wasn't him! Jesus, it wasn't him! It was me. I'm the one!” He tried to shove Gabriel behind him. “You wanted someone to blame, someone to feed on? It ain't him, huevon!” 

Sam could see now that each of the Queens natives had a pistol out, even as they were moving toward the thing which was somehow pulling them in by their heartstrings. 

It was Gabriel who fired, point blank. He roared with contempt and rage, and got off three rounds before the rawhead could react. It dove at Gabriel, with a speed that made Sam nauseous. Its hands and feet were clawed, and he looked as though he would waste no time ripping the thug’s chest open. But Castiel dove too, between Gabriel and the monster. 

Claws sunk deep into Castiel's chest, and he screamed in pain. A part of Sam's brain promised that the scream meant Castiel's lungs were still intact, and probably his heart too, but it would be only seconds before the bursting of his rib cage would make that moot. 

It was now or never. 

The creature reared back to slash at Castiel again, but Sam fired into his chest. The rawhead howled and stiffened, then collapsed in a heap at Sam's feet. He turned quickly. “Cas?” he shrieked. 

Gabriel was holding Castiel's head in his lap, where he had fallen. “You stupid, stupid…” he muttered over and over again. 

Castiel groaned through clenched teeth, and held his own hands over his wound. 

The other looked up at Sam with pleading in his eyes. “It's dead?”

Sam stumbled toward the smoking mess of hair and skin, and nodded. “Dead,” he reported breathlessly. 

“N-no more…”

He cringed when Castiel couldn't continue. “No more dead kids,” he confirmed. 

Castiel took this as permission to let his head loll back. His eyes closed. 

“And-and what about Capitani? What do we do?”

“I don't…” Sam looked around the space frantically. He shook his head. “Okay. Okay, look. Hold him real still. Cas, can you hear me? Don't go into shock on me or anything.”

Tears streamed down Gabriel's cheeks, but he barked out a laugh. “Ha! Shock! Hear that, Cassie? Kid just tased a bitch to death, and now he's telling you no shocks. Get it?”

Castiel's blue eyes rolled to glare up at Gabriel, but then they fell closed again. 

His friend watched Sam looking over the wound and adding pressure to quell the bleeding. He continued to laugh shakily. “God, Cas. I give to you a new pair of kicks, and what do you do? You use them to bust in front of me when I'm about to kill a fricking monster. I was about to be a hero, son, and you had to get in my way. Don't think saving my sweet ass is gonna make us even, fratello,” he went on. “You owe me. I don't take no stupid ass heroism as payment. You ain't got no money? I'm reasonable. Don't die, and we'll call it debt paid. You get me?”

Castiel's grimace was frightful, but he nodded. “Got you,” he wheezed. 

It was a very long night. Breaking into the animal hospital to patch Castiel up was the only option, since Castiel refused the emergency room. Sam considered knocking him out and taking him anyway, but when Gabriel had suggested the alternative, they went with the compromise. Sam sought out and covered the security cameras, and the other two knew entirely too much about wiping out fingerprints. For his part, Gabriel sat and chattered and distracted Castiel from his pain as well as he could while Sam treated, bandaged and sewed the Captain’s wounds. 

Once Sam was convinced Castiel wouldn't die, assuming he didn't catch some infection-Sam had been very careful with cleaning and sterilizing, but he wasn't a damn doctor-they moved the party back to Gabriel's place. It was very slow going. Castiel was in a great deal of pain still, and they had to hide their predicament from any late night wanderers who happened by. But finally, just before dawn, they were spread out on worn out couches in safety. 

“All right. Cas, you want the bed, fratello?”

Castiel shook his head minutely. “Don't want to get up. But thanks.”

“Got you,” Gabriel responded. “I'm gonna crash then. You boys is too crazy for me. Good thing I had your backs, or you'd be monster meat, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” Sam and Castiel murmured back. 

Gabriel smiled. “Capitani? You let this kid take care of you, fratello. All right?”

“All right,” the young man breathed. 

There was silence after Gabriel shut the door behind him. Sam sighed in relief. He was exhausted. But his new friend wasn't comfortable enough to sleep. He had turned down Gabriel's stash of painkillers and various other “candy,” as he had called it. Sam doubted the acetaminophen was doing much by itself. So when Castiel spoke, and clearly wanted company, Sam forced his eyes to stay open. He liked the man's voice anyway. 

“Hey, Kansas?” 

“Yeah, Cas.”

“Thanks for everything. Good looking. For Gabe, and for my kids. And for me.”

Sam smiled grimly. “Well, Gabriel wasn't all wrong. You two running in like idiots distracted the rawhead from me, and I got a clear shot on him. I don't know if I would have if I'd been alone. He moved too fast.”

Castiel took a breath which was shuddered with pain. “Sam? It hurts. And I can't take the painkiller he's got. I don't...My mom overdosed, and I just can't take anything I don't have to, you know? So...maybe you can talk to me? I'm Cas Capitani. I’m used to...But I don't wanna be alone right now.”

Without coherent thought leading him, Sam's heart took over, and he moved to sit on the floor with his back against Castiel's couch. He reached up and took the older boy’s hand in his own. “Of course,” he answered kindly. “I'm not leaving you. You don't have to be alone. I'll be right here.”


	8. Survivor

Laughing hurt his chest. Probably because a damn monster had clawed into it. But it was nearly worth it when Sam hurried to express concern. 

“Careful!” he whispered. “You'll tear my stitching.”

Castiel smiled up at the young hunter. He loved how Sam's expressive eyes went from mischief to worry in an instant if it appeared that Castiel might be uncomfortable. He loved a lot about Sam. “I'm good,” he breathed. “I ain't gonna mess up your pretty artwork. It was too much fun getting it a few hours ago. I'd hate to go through it all again.”

Sam cringed and nodded. “Yeah. I've patched up my dad enough times, and Dean a few times too, and it sucks on both ends, I promise. If I never have to do it again, it'll still be too soon.”

“Doesn't hurt as bad as it did,” he assured him. It was mostly true. 

His friend nodded again. “Because we killed the thing that did it. Works that way with a lot creatures, where they still affect a wound just because they're still alive. Or like a witch. Killing the witch usually makes the spellwork fizzle.”

“Witches, huh?”

“They suck. A lot. Always picking apart chickens and rabbits and people. It's just gross. And hexbags are a bitch to find. I don't think I've walked into a room since I was like nine years old without scanning for a hexbag. Starts to get automatic. When you pointed out your chessboard in that wall? I already knew it was there. I had checked the walls a few hours before you came back. Holes in drywall make me nervous.”

“I'm just gonna act like that all made some sense,” Castiel teased. 

Sam flushed a delightful pink in the pale light. “Yeah, because of the two of us, I'm the one who sounds funny when he talks.”

This earned him a grin. “Exactly. Look, Kansas. I been trying to tone down the slang since you was messing up simple stuff like deadass. You want I should talk normal, and we won't understand nothing the other is saying?”

He laughed quietly, and let his hair fall in front of his eyes. It was adorable. “No. No, I appreciate the effort. When you and Gabriel talk, it's like being in another country. Weird, and way too fast, and lots of hand gestures I can't help staring at.”

“Yeah, well, some shit is universal. I been here all my life, don't watch much television, and I forget sometimes it ain't the same everywhere. Everybody here talks the same.”

This time, he burst into laughter, and had to quiet himself to avoid awakening Gabriel in the next room. “No they don't!” he chuckled. “I've heard about eighty-one different languages and accents since coming here from Upstate a week ago!”

“Yeah, but I don't run into a lot of transplants, you know? Just me and my boys, mostly, and the restaurants that are run all by guys that's mamas came from either Latin America, or Italy or Portugal, and they still curse in the old language. And the guys in the park, who don't talk much at all, except to each other.”

“I've always been a transplant. Every six weeks or whatever, sometimes less, I'm in a new place. I only have a Kansan accent because my dad has a bit of one, and Dean still does a little. Most folks don't even hear it in my voice, but I guess it's so different from the babble you call English that you picked up on it right away.”

Castiel snorted, but that caused a sharp pain to shoot through his chest, and he had to stop to breathe. 

Again, Sam's smile disappeared, and he reached up to touch Castiel's hand. “Are you all right?”

He felt weak all over, which he detested strongly, but Sam had said that was mostly “blood loss and psychological trauma.” The wound had miraculously missed vital organs; though it had cut deep enough to have exposed a part of his rib, it had not broken through to what was inside. Sam's bandaging and stitching had been impressive. 

“Cas? You with me?”

The hand on his was warm and nice. He wasn't ready to lose it just yet. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Little cold,” he admitted. “But you're warm.” 

“Oh!” Sam looked down at his own hand. “I, uh...Yeah, you're probably going to feel cold for a while. Unless you're feverish, and you're not, you'll be okay. But I wish I could make you more comfortable.”

He smiled. He knew exactly how Sam could help. “You know,” he murmured, “I read in school once about this thing. Nightingale syndrome or some crap.”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “What?”

“Pretty sure.” He wasn't sure at all. He couldn't remember. But that wasn't the point. “Where the pretty nurse falls for the stoic patient.”

Now Sam was beginning to look feverish himself. “What?” he croaked again. 

It was probably the blood loss. Maybe the psychological trauma. Maybe it was the fact that a freaking monster had taken a chunk out of him while trying to kill a buddy of his, after mauling a kid he had helped. But whatever the reason, Castiel suddenly just didn't feel like pretending he wasn't feeling something for this young hunter who had saved his life. This gorgeous, adorable, brilliant hunter with amazing hands and sharp wit…

“C-Cas? Are you…?”

Blue eyes snapped open again. Right. Blood loss, it was, then. “Sorry. Drifted away for a minute.”

“Yeah. Um, are you all right? I don't know if you're...Do you want to sleep?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Terror filled Sam's stunned face. “You what? Cas, you're...you're in pain, and I think you're starting to get-”

“I'm starting to get…” Castiel shrugged, and giggled a little. The world was beginning to seem a bit woozy. “So?” he challenged. “It's true. I'm just going to tell you, Kansas. Not for nothing, but I've been wanting to jump you since you-You don't know how pretty you are. And maybe Gabe’s wrong, but I think he's right. You're into me. And fuck knows why, but I'll take it. You're a damn beauty, Sam.”

“Cas, I think you better sleep. Okay? You're...you're saying stuff you don't mean.”

His eyes slipped closed again, and he could feel an ache in his chest as his heart tried to compensate for his new blood pressure. He had been all right for a few hours, but it seemed to all be hitting him at once now, just how exhausted he was, and how close to death he had come. 

“It's okay,” Sam was saying from somewhere too far away. “It's okay. Just sleep now, okay? You can sleep now.”

“I didn't say anything I didn't mean,” he mumbled. “I want you to kiss me. But I don't have to be awake for that. I'd like to be, but I'm just gonna doze just a minute.”

“Sleep, Cas.” 

He struggled to open his eyes again, but the world was just too heavy. 

A warm hand was stroking his hair from his eyes. “It's okay,” the kind voice soothed. “Sleep. Just rest. I'm not going to kiss you, because I want so badly to do it, but I know you didn't mean to say that. You were probably...You've been thinking about that Oren guy all night. But for the record? I know what Oren saw in you. You're the kind of guy who jumps in front of a monster’s claws to save a friend. You're the kind of guy who holds a friend who is hurting so bad he's lashing out at you for something you already feel guilty for, that you both know really isn't your fault. You're the kind of guy who gives a home to kids who need one just because they need one. You're the kind of guy who works all day to bring home hot food for whoever might be hungry, then eat from a jar of peanut butter when everyone else gets their fill of the good stuff. Jesus, dude. I fell flat on my face for you when I saw that.”

Castiel knew Sam thought he couldn't hear. He fought against his entire body to keep from drifting out to the deep end of his consciousness. He didn't want to lose these words. These words fed his starving soul, just as Sam was talking about filling hungry bellies. 

“You brought this cooler full of food back from that place, and then backed away while those kids all dug in while you washed up. You came back a minute later, and you saw it was entirely gone, and...and I watched you. You laughed. Then you grabbed the peanut butter, and that was all you ate, but you looked so pleased that all your kids were fed. It's...it's what Dean would've done. He might've grumbled, but he always let me eat first, and...and then he'd take whatever was left, and...Cas, I fell for you completely when I saw that…”

He didn't want to lose these words. They were everything to his calloused heart. He just didn't want to lose…

Sam was calling to him. He wasn't sure when he had wandered away from the hunter, but he turned to smile at him. He could see that Sam was yelling something, but he couldn't hear him. 

“What? Kansas?”

Sam was shaking his head, and frantically pointing behind him. 

Castiel turned quickly, his worn out shoes slipping on the wet concrete, and throwing him off balance. He was in the crypt, below the freezing city, out of breath as if he had been running. What was he running from? Or toward? 

He forced his eyes to focus in the dizzy darkness. It was just in time to dodge a knife slicing at him. His eyes widened in shock, but immediately narrowed upon recognizing his enemy. “Luciano.”

The nastiest grin he had ever seen curled onto Lou Luciano’s face. “You cost me a fuck of a lot of money, Capitani,” the malefactor snarled.

Castiel's heart was pounding and he felt himself begin to tremble. But he simply nodded and pulled his own knife. He backed away from Luciano, but his rival began to circle. “Which time?” he made himself smirk. 

Luciano’s grin became a sneer, and his eyes were suddenly glowing red in the dark crypt. “Too many times. And never again. You die today, you creep.”

“Maybe. But you're not taking Kansas. I won't let you.”

“Oh, I'm taking him. He's a beauty. He’ll sell like freaking candy-flavored cigarettes. Might even take a puff from him my own self. He's gonna go a long way to getting me back the money I lost because of you this past year.”

Castiel raised his knife. “No. Not him. He's my friend.”

“‘Course he's your friend. That's why I'm going to take him piece by piece, and sell him piece by piece for nickels till he drops dead. Just after I kill you.”

“No!” Castiel leapt forward at his attacker, but he was so slow, so off-balance in these torn up shoes...He felt Luciano's knife slice into his chest, and gasped in agony. He fell to his knees, and failed to get back up when he tried. “Sam, no!”

He could hear Luciano laugh, could see Sam struggling to free himself. But he couldn't move to help, and he had to watch Sam dragged into a large, black vehicle. 

“No!” he screamed. Tears flowed down his cheeks. “No, no, no...Not Sam! Please, not Sam! Me, but not Sam! He's… he's the only one ever…”

He couldn't see them anymore, but he could hear Luciano's voice. “You? Are you making me an offer?”

Castiel sobbed in defeat, hanging his head where he knelt on the ground. “Yes,” he choked out. “Yes, just please...please. Let him go.”

“You know what I'm going to do to you. You'll be the lowest pet I've got. You'll be so strung out, like your mama, that you-”

“Stop!” he cried out. “Stop. Yes. Yes, just let him go.”

Luciano grinned again, and those wicked eyes flashed red once more. “Yeah. Okay.” In a blindingly fast motion, he drove his blade into Sam's chest. Hazel eyes widened, and the boy slumped to the ground to stare at nothing in silence. 

“No!” he wailed. “No! You bastard! You-”

But he was being shoved into the back of an Escalade, and everything was going dark around him, and he thought he could hear Sam calling to him, but it must have been an echo…

“Castiel! Cas, wake up!”

Sweat soaked his tee shirt and pillow. It was freezing in the room. In Gabriel’s room. Where Sam was standing over him. He frowned. “Sam?”

“Cas,” he sighed. “Are you all right? God, man! You were howling!”

“Did I-” He groaned when trying to sit up turned out to be the worst idea he'd had since jumping in front of a hungry monster. Pain shot through him like ice. “Shit,” he moaned out. “Did I wake Gabriel?”

“Shh. No. He left about twenty minutes ago. Said we could stay as long as we needed, but he had some business to take care of. At least, I think that's what he said. He talks really fast.”

Castiel laughed, and cringed. “Ouch,” he sighed pitifully. “Yeah, okay. I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

Sam chewed on his lip for a moment before taking a breath to speak. “You really won't let me get you to a hospital?”

“Why? Because I'm having nightmares? Kid, that just goes with the fucking territory.”

“You had a fever earlier.”

“Look at you, Florence fucking Nightingale.”

Sam stiffened abruptly. “No! No, I just...You got hurt on my watch. You're kind of my responsibility.”

Castiel sighed. “I ain't been nobody's responsibility for eight years, Kansas. I ain't yours now.”

“I don't mind.”

It was said quietly, in a sweet, shy voice, and it bled directly into Castiel's heart. He swallowed hard. “I don't got a fever now. Just cold.”

“Happens when you lose blood. I couldn't find anymore blankets.”

A smile pushed through Castiel's pain. “You could keep me warm.”

Sam stared at him. The fear had returned to his dark eyes then. “Why-why would-How do you mean?”

Castiel reached to take hold of his friend's shoulders. It hurt his wounds to move that way, but seeing the obvious want in Sam's eyes, feeling the way his breath quickened and watching as his lips parted, it was an anesthetic like none Castiel had ever allowed himself. “Come here, Kansas.”

A flash of his nightmare crossed his mind as he saw that Sam looked genuinely afraid. It made his heart ache to remember how terrifying it was to watch him suffer. He let go of Sam's shoulders, but reached up to touch gently at his lips with two fingers. Sam voiced a tiny whimper. 

He smiled. “Not for nothing, Sam, but you look like you might want to keep me warm,” he teased gently. “You saved my life, Sam. I almost died. I think we both deserve a kiss, you know? Or don't hunters do that?”

A laugh bubbled out of Sam nervously. “Yeah. Hunters like Dean. Hunters like me sit on the sidelines after a hunt and practice Latin exorcisms and drawing sigils, because I don't know how to do anything else. Like-like kiss.”

The young man was so incredibly adorable. Castiel felt his heart trying to burst from his chest. “But you are into guys. Gabriel was right about that? And maybe me specifically?”

“Definitely you specifically,” Sam breathed out. He was staring at Castiel with awe. 

Castiel's smile shone through his whole body, and for the first time in many hours, he couldn't feel the cold anymore. “Then let's learn a little about kissing. You can work on your Latin and sigils and shit later.”

Sam was shaking badly when his hand touched Castiel's arm. It was amazing the way the guy could stare down an honest to God, real life monster, but tremble at the idea of a simple kiss. 

But the kid was brave. 

He leaned down to place his lips onto Castiel's, lingering just a moment before letting another little whimper pass from his mouth into the other, and Castiel smiled against his lips, and tugged him down tighter. He could feel Sam being careful of his wounds, but pressing forward without needing Castiel to guide him. 

It was exactly as delicious as Castiel had known it would be, right up until a ringtone rang out with Bon Jovi, startling them both apart. 

Sam looked stunned for a moment, then his eyes widened, and he dove for a phone on the floor near his abandoned shoes. “Dean?” he cried out. “Dean?”

“Heya, Sammy,” Castiel could hear a gruff voice call. “Gimme your 20, and I'm coming right to you.”

The young hunter collapsed into sobs.


	9. Assassin

It kept running through his head, mercilessly stabbing at his brain. “Cas Capitani nearly died for you. He saved your ass. He nearly died for you.” It roiled in him until he gave up trying to sleep. He owed Castiel his life. He couldn't stand it. Not Castiel. He couldn't let that hang over him the rest of his days. He had to make things even again.

So there he was, in the middle of the night, in the most dangerous hood in Queens, with Ganesh Pagano and Jay Odin. He had an empty clip in his gun, and he was staring down with a sickness in his heart at the victim that would make things even.

Castiel had stepped in front of a monster for Gabriel that night. So Gabriel had sought out the nastiest monster he could find, one who had the Captain in his sights. It was a monster the police had tried to lock up, who was a nettle in the side of Michael and Raphael Angelino, and who was generally loathed by the Paganos and their people. Castiel had saved him from a monster. So Gabriel had put down the Devil for him.

He sighed down at the bloody mess that used to be Lou Luciano, and nodded. “We’re even, Cassie.”

Ganesh eyed him closely. “We gotta go. Odin’s hurt-”

“Just grazed me,” the man snapped. “I'm good.”

“The police will-”

Gabriel shook his head. “No. I put in a call to Mikey Angelino. The cops ain't gonna look too hard at who mighta done this.”

“Lou’s boys will.”

He continued to stare at the body. “You think so? Because I'm thinking they're gonna be too busy fighting over who gets his territory, stabbing each other in the fucking backs, that they ain't gonna care.” He took a deep breath. “But come on. We're done here. Leave him for the crows.” He turned and stalked back out to Ganesh’s car. “We're straight, Cassie. You and me, we’re even.”


	10. Hunter

The first thing the brothers did was throw their arms around one another and hold on for dear life. Castiel sat back and watched with conflicting emotions. 

The second thing that happened was that Sam threw his fist directly into Dean's nose, and sent the older man stumbling backward. Castiel stared. 

Dean put his right hand up quickly while his left held his nose. “Okay! Okay. Fair.”

Sam's eyes flashed in fury. “Damn right that's fair! Where the hell have you been? I thought you were dead, jackass!”

Green eyes rolled up, and Dean pinched his nose to check for blood. “I know. I know. I'm sorry. Apparently they don't give unconscious John Does a phone call.”

“That's jail, dumbass! Where's Dad?”

Now the older brother lowered his eyes. “He, uh.”

Sam's eyes were sparkling with angry tears. “He, uh, what? You were unconscious, but what about him?”

Dean touched at his nose again gingerly. Castiel could see bruising beginning to form under his eyes. “Look. He left me a note, in case I woke up. It told me where to find where he stashed the Impala, and-”

“Stashed the Impala! And what does that mean, in case you woke up?”

“If you'll let me talk, I'll tell you!” the man barked. 

Sam crossed his arms and waited. 

“But not here. Not in front of him.”

Castiel looked at Sam, who shook his head. “No. No, he took care of me when you and Dad...This guy already knows all about hunting, because while you and Dad were off being dead, he and I tracked and killed a damn rawhead.”

Dean looked over the Captain, who sat still and silent on the couch. “He got mauled by a freaking rawhead?” 

The next thing he knew, he was being manhandled by Sam's brother, as bandages and stitches were being inspected. “Son,” he cried hoarsely, “not for nothing, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.” He spared a discreet wink for Sam, and enjoyed the way he turned pink. 

Dean scowled at him, then turned to his brother. “You checked for-”

“Of course I checked for claws. Rawhead still had all of them attached when he died. I'm not a moron.”

“I know you're not. But, Jesus, man, you took out a freaking rawhead? By yourself?”

“Cas was there. And his friend Gabe.”

“So you and two civilians. I'm proud of you, kiddo! Never do that again, you hear me?”

Sam sighed. “You sound like Dad. And would you leave the guy alone? I checked for claws, and anyway, if he had a claw stuck in his gut, don't you think he'd be a rawhead himself by now, and I'd have put him down too?”

Castiel's eyes shot wide. “Fuck is this, now?”

“Excuse me for wanting to double-check that your buddy isn't going to look like Krueger in a few hours.”

Sam was losing patience. “So? Dad,” he reminded his brother. 

The eyes lowered again. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Dad. I guess they didn't know for sure if I was going to wake up. So he-he left. He went back to work.” There came a shaky, unconvincing laugh. “Evil don't take a holiday, you know? Anyway, he left his journal behind, and when I called him, he, uh...Well, he didn't answer, but I got a text. He sent coordinates. He's giving us an order. There's a job-”

“A hunt?” Sam shrieked. 

Dean could not meet his brother's eyes. “Yeah. Arizona. I looked into it as well as I could. Looks like it might be a vengeful spirit. Won't know till we get there. So come on. Say goodbye or whatever. We got work to do.”

“Where the hell is Dad?” 

“He's checking up on a lead, Sam! It's got to be something important, okay? He wouldn't just bail-”

Tears of anger streamed down his thin face, and Castiel's heart ached to hold him. “You mean something more important than us! I called him when I had to run from the cops! You called him when he thought you were dying!”

Dean was quiet. 

“No. No, I'm not going.”

“You have to go.”

Sam shook his head. “No. You don't even know if he's going to be in Arizona.”

“He's busy, Sam! Dad's a freaking hero, all right? The job comes first. Before me, before everything!”

“No, Dean,” he snapped. “Not before everything. Were you even discharged? Or did you just sneak out of the hospital as soon as you could?”

“I know when I'm well enough to move. And I ain't dying in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “Dean, you all right, aren't you? Because you sound like a boy of mine that don't ever like to show he's hurting.”

Sam's eyes narrowed. “Dean, how hurt are you?”

Castiel could see that this man was strong, incredibly athletic, and he was probably about twenty-one years old. But in that brief instant before he spoke again, Dean's eyes and face seemed like a child’s. Then he hardened again. “I'm good. I'm awesome. And Dad gave us an order.”

“Dad gave us coordinates to a hunt in freaking Arizona. And I'm not going. Dad can take care of it if he thinks there's something down there.”

He threw his hands in the air. “So? What the hell are we going to do? We gonna sit in some studio in Queens? Why the hell are you even in Queens anyway? I'd have run away from the city! You dove in the center of it!”

Sam looked at Castiel for a long minute, then sighed. “I never went to the city before. I figured I could see it at least, while I figured out my next move. And then I met Cas, and...and I still don't like the city, but I-I do like...Cas.”

Sam was his painkiller. Castiel breathed deeply, and ignored the aching of his wounds. He wanted to breathe Sam in, to overdose on him if he let him. Sam was the only drug he ever wanted, the only pleasure he would ever need. And if this brother was going to steal him away to Arizona...Well, Castiel had given Queens nearly two decades to tear out his heart. He had protected her most vulnerable pawns for as long as he could. This knight would now follow that bishop anywhere. 

At last, Dean lowered himself to sit. “Okay, Sammy. Look, I get it. Okay? There was a girl once, in Ohio, about six months ago…” He laughed strangely. “She was a Cas too, matter of fact. Anyway, I get it. Sit. Let's talk. Okay? Tell me everything I missed.”

Castiel looked at Sam hopefully, and found him frowning back. “I'm not going to Arizona,” he said firmly. 

Dean nodded. “Okay, little brother.”

Shock and suspicion pinched Sam's brow. “Okay?”

“I told you. I get it. So sit down. Talk to me.”

Castiel sighed heavily into the silence. “Sam?” He reached for the young hunter's hand, and watched those worried hazel eyes soften at their contact. He could see Dean shifting awkwardly, but the older man said nothing. “Kansas, listen. I can't tell you how many kids have come through my space in all these years. And it was a rare kid that had any family willing to sit and talk. You got somebody like that, you sit and you talk, capiche? Maybe you keep running after, but you do the sitting and talking first. You know?”

Dean sent him a half-smile in gratitude as Sam sighed and shrugged. “Okay. Okay. Fine. Here's what you missed.”

Castiel was terrified that this big brother was going to steal away the only thing that had ever felt safe to him. But he was proud of Sam for taking the chance at trusting his brother, who was clearly his hero, and who was clearly suffering a broken heart inflicted by his own hero. 

Besides, he had already decided that if Sam would let him, he would follow him anywhere he wanted to go, even if it was right into the claws of another monster. Let God save Queens. Castiel wanted, just once in his life, to follow his heart.


	11. Angel

“You can't save every kid in the damn city, son.”

He heard Gabriel snort on the other end of the line. “Watch me. I'm Gabriel fucking Romano.”

Sam stood in the doorway and listened to the Queens natives on the speakerphone. It had been a while since Castiel's accent was so thick. It was kind of cute. 

“You watching your back, ain't you, fratello? Luciano's boys-”

“I don't know nothing about no Lou Luciano. Forget about it.”

Castiel smiled. “Yeah, okay. When I'm gonna see you?”

“Thinking of making a trip to Malone. See my dad up at supermax, you know? I'll catch you on the way.”

“I ain't on no way to Malone, fratello,” Castiel laughed. 

“Whatever. Upstate is upstate. I'll call you again if I'm near.”

“How's-”

“They're fine, Cassie. I told you. I'm looking out for them. Mikey Angelino makes mayor like it looks, I'm gonna call in a few favors about getting street kids some better protections, you know? And Kali Pagano put word out on the streets that Luciano's boys is fair game. Her boys was told to take care of the problem if they see those thugs after any kids, and she weren't so specific as to how. They been laying low since all that.”

“Thank you, Gabriel.”

“Forget about it. I gotta run. Business, you know.”

“Watch yourself, Romano.”

“Yeah, all right. You too, Cassie. Tell Kansas I said hey.”

“Yeah, all right.”

As Castiel hung up, Sam watched him sigh. Then he smiled softly at the phone, and went back to work under the faulty utility sink. 

Sam stepped in quietly. “Sounds like Gabe's the new king of Queens.”

Castiel gave a snort and sat up again. “Yeah, he thinks so. You should've called, Kansas. I'm filthy.”

He sat on his heels to kiss him softly. “But then I'd miss you all sweaty and shirtless.”

“Yeah. I might've been showered. Would've been a fucking tragedy.” 

Sam let him wash up, but only because he knew he would get his complete attention after. He followed his lover into the bedroom and waited while he showered and brushed his teeth. He looked around the room and smiled. 

Castiel still owned almost nothing. But there was a small, beautiful perch for his chess set now, and Sam didn't have to ask who had made it. Carving and carpentry had become Castiel's fondest pastime while Sam was away at school. He put in far beyond a normal workweek at Sonny’s, helping the boys who needed someone to care about them, to believe they could be better than they were. Then he disappeared into his tiny living space attached to the barn, and enjoyed the solitude. Of course, that was while Sam was at Cornell University, about forty minutes from Hurleyville, studying. When Sam returned on long weekends and holidays, Castiel devoted every free minute to his lover. 

“You want I should set up a game?”

Sam looked up from the chess set. “Tonight,” he promised. “I've been practicing in the student union.”

Castiel nodded. “Heard much from my boy?”

It always made him laugh when the Captain referred to Dean that way. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, called him on my way here. He's in Utah looking in on a local legend.”

“Tell me when he takes on the Jersey Devil. I told him I want in on that one.”

Sam snickered. “Yeah. He mentioned that. He wants you to call and update him on how Sonny is doing.”

Castiel was toweling off, but was beautifully terrible at covering himself while doing so. It was making Sam's heart race. He couldn't help staring. “I ain't never going to forget what he done for me, hooking me up with Sonny, you know. This is the best gig I ever...I always figured I'd kick it in Queens, you know, in some back alley somewheres. Now I got work, good work, doing what I come to this world to do, you know? Caring for them that can't or won't care for their own selves. Helping kids on their way to someplace better.”

The younger man smiled at him proudly. “Yeah. Kids like my brother.”

“Kids like that. Kids like your brother that grow up to be heroes to somebody. Or maybe they grow up to end up in Upstate in Malone, but I can know I did my best to help them when they needed somebody once. Like Oren. You can't save everybody, no doubt. But I gotta try and do what I can. And it's because I met you and your brother that I can do it like this, in a safe place where I got a good mentor in Sonny...Anyway, don't think I ever forget to be grateful. I got a roof and running hot water, and I can buy my own bread, and I got work that means something. And I can carve all I want too. That ain't nothing. More than I ever thought I could have.”

“You're more than I ever knew to want,” Sam responded with a sudden emotional intensity. 

Castiel turned to him, and tossed his towel to the side. “Kansas, you are the good I always hoped was out there someplace. And I'm surprised every time you come back to my door.”

“Don't be surprised, Cas. I'll always come back. You're my home. Dean and his buddy Garth, they're my family, and you give them a home too, and I'll never forget to be grateful for that. The fact that my brother and his new partner have someplace to return to, to rest off a hunt, to be free for a few days a month...It's everything to me. You're my home, and you give my brother a sanctuary. I can't tell you what that means to me. I will always come back to you, angel.”

“Sam? I've been wanting you for two weeks. You gonna take them clothes off or what? Not for nothing, but-”

He burst into laughter. “Not for nothing,” he agreed. 

They spent the rest of the evening in Castiel's bed, making love, and telling stories, and laughing. It was how Sam wanted every night to go, for the rest of his life. 

“I love you, Kansas. I'm going to love you every way I know how, then I'm gonna learn new ways.”

He sighed happily, and snuggled into his lover's arms. “Thank you for everything, Cas.”

His angel hummed with satisfaction, and kissed the top of his head. “Forget about it.”


End file.
